Still Standing
by deanstheman
Summary: Teen!Chesters, Hurt!Dean. John leaves 17-year-old Dean and 13-year-old Sam in a bad neighborhood with a different kind of monster that has nothing to do with the supernatural. While fighting for his life, Dean struggles with his recent realization that Sam doesn't want to be a hunter. Rated T for some swearing and violence.


_Teen!chesters, Hurt!Dean, - This is a just a short, one-chapter fic. _

_In my story Someone to Save You, Sam made a quick one-sentence reference to an incident in the Winchesters' teen years that left Dean with bitter feelings towards urban gangs. My awesome ffnet friend __**Kissacazador**__ suggested I write the story behind it. The weather was crap on the weekend so I did just that. _

_**Warning**__: I don't speak Spanish and I know absolutely nothing about California or gangs so forgive me if anything in this short piece doesn't feel authentic or if I got any translations wrong (but please feel free to let me know if you notice something). I do __**always**__ research for my fics but I have been known to still get it wrong. Since this isn't a master's thesis and I don't have a year to research by immersing myself in the gang culture and conducting a hundred interviews, I've just taken things from Google searches and what I remember from Stand and Deliver and The Wire (not exactly authentic source material, lol). As for the location, I'm sure East Compton is a perfectly fine area to live in, much better than I depicted it here surely. I only chose it because I was restricted to LA County due to the reference in my other story and my online search named it as a place with very high gang activity. _

_Rated T for some swearing (in two languages!) and violence. _

-0-0-

_**October 1996  
><strong>__1 year before the flashback scene in After School Special  
>Dean is 17 in grade 11, Sam is 13 in grade 8<em>

-0-0-

"Aw come on, please. Can't I come with you?"

John Winchester didn't give his eldest son so much as a sideways glance and simply continued delivering instructions as he packed various weaponry into the duffel bag on the table. "Me and Caleb'll be out of reach 'til we get this thing so call Bobby if you need anything, got it?"

"Bobby's like four states away," Dean snarked, this time earning himself a sharp glare for the back-talk.

"You can take the Impala," his dad continued, checking the fuel level in a flamethrower before tossing it to Caleb. "You'll be stayin' with Caleb's grandmother, Doreen."

"Dad, I'm seventeen. I don't need a friggin' babysitter." Dean cringed at the whine he could hear in his own voice, hating that Caleb was bearing witness to his humiliation. His dad's hunter friend was only a few years older than he was. Dean could watch his dad's back on a dangerous hunt just as well as Caleb could. It wasn't fair.

His father turned around with a frustrated sigh. "She's not a babysitter, son. She's Caleb's kin and she's being gracious enough to let you stay in her home. You behave and show her some respect, you hear?"

"Actually, kiddo, you'd be doin' me a solid," Caleb said, having the decency to look apologetic for Dean's plight. "If we don't get this thing before it goes to ground, it could take me and your old man a while to track it down. Weeks even. Grams gets around okay but I don't like leavin' her alone for that long."

"Besides," John added, "you don't know the area and she can help with stuff." He shouldered the duffel bag and handed Dean a piece of paper.

"Stuff?" Dean questioned sullenly, unfolding the paper to find Doreen's name and address on it.

_3015 Knoll Street,__ East __Compton, Los Angeles County._

"Yeah, stuff. Meals. Homework." Dean could tell from his father's tone the man was running low on patience. "You should be grateful. She can help with Sammy…"

"I don't need help with Sammy," he snapped defensively. "I look out for him just fine by myself."

He didn't miss the flash of anger - or maybe it was something else - on his dad's face but it was quickly replaced by a frown.

"You're in different schools here. Sam's at Willowbrook Middle School and you're at Centennial High 'bout three blocks away." The stern look darkened. "And with the amount of detention you've been gettin' these days, you might not always be around when he gets out of class. I don't know that I can trust you."

The words cut through him like a knife and Dean's eyes dropped to his feet, defiance quickly turning to shame. Yeah, he'd been copping attitude with teachers these days but geez, he was seventeen. He was a hunter and hunters didn't need high school. What he needed to learn wasn't getting taught in frigging chemistry 101. But he knew he had disappointed his dad when Sam had been made to walk home by himself at their last school. From what little he had heard, most of Compton was a pretty shitty neighborhood so he couldn't let that happen again here. Of course, he wouldn't have to if he wasn't in school…

"About that," he ventured, desperation giving him the courage to try one last argument. "If we're only here for a couple of weeks, can't we just skip the school thing 'til the next place?"

"No."

"But Dad..."

"No, Dean! That's an order."

"Yes,sir."

-0-0-

By late the next afternoon, Dean was driving slowly down El Segundo Blvd, checking out the neighborhood he was to call home for the next few weeks with a worried frown. The Winchesters didn't often stay in big cities and he preferred it that way. He turned to his passenger. "What do we know about this place, Sammy?"

His little brother looked equally displeased and a wave of pity - and guilt - swept through Dean. Sam had liked their last school in Vermont. He'd made a few friends and even joined the drama club. The kid hated moving around so much but had been extra bitter about leaving the last place.

"One of the highest crime rates in California," Sam grumbled. "And one of the lowest high school graduation rates."

"Don't worry. We won't be here long enough to worry about graduation." Dean cringed at his lame attempt to keep things positive.

Sam didn't look appeased. "It's like sixty-six percent Latino and thirty-two percent black," he continued. "Do the math to see where we fit in."

Dean snorted. "Since when do we care about race, Sammy? The only race that counts is the human one. You know that. Humans versus monsters, man."

"I just mean it's gonna be harder to blend in here."

Dean gave his little brother a studious look, wondering what was going on in that moody head of his. "What's with the obsession to fit in these days? Nothing wrong with being who you are. Especially when you're a bad ass hunter-in-training." He grinned and slapped his brother's shoulder. He had been adding the 'in-training' for Sammy recently as a tease because the kid hadn't scored his first kill yet. Unlike Dean. "You know you score more chicks if you embrace your bad assery, not hide it."

He didn't even get a smile. "I don't want to embrace bad assery, Dean." Sam turned his gaze back out the window, his young face taking on an expression far too worried for a thirteen year old. "You sure it's here? This place looks…"

"This place looks like the hood," Dean finished. "Like the real hood."

That earned him an eye roll. "Nobody says 'the hood' anymore, dork."

They passed a group of men standing around on a corner, the obvious outline of a pistol tucked in beneath at least one man's t-shirt. "Bet they do here," Dean mumbled.

Sam bit his lower lip and Dean knew his brother had seen what he had.

"Dad wouldn't leave us in an area like this," Sam said quietly.

Dean shrugged. "The Wendigo didn't exactly give him time to come check the place out first."

He instantly regretted the comment because Sam's face darkened instantly. The kid was always annoyed at Dad these days. He questioned his decisions, complained constantly, and even talked back. Dean didn't understand why Sam couldn't get how important their dad's job was. That he didn't have a choice but to move them around the country. Monsters didn't come to him; he had to go after them. John Winchester was saving people. He was a hero. Why couldn't Sam see that?

His little brother's frown deepened as they passed another group of teens with suspicious bulges sporting what looked like gang colors.

"They're just people, Sam," he placated. "There's good and bad, just like everywhere else."

-0-0-

Caleb's grandmother's home was a small, drab, two-bedroom bungalow on a side street not far from the school, the middle in a long row of low-rent housing. The yards were small squares with more junk in them than grass and there wasn't a decent paint job on the whole street but none of that bothered Dean. He had stayed in worse.

Doreen was pretty spry for someone who looked like she was a hundred and forty years old. Turned out she volunteered with underprivileged kids and there was no shortage of those in these parts so she refused to move to a safer neighborhood. She introduced herself on the front stoop as the brothers were still getting out of the car and proceeded to list the chores that needed done. To Dean's dismay, he and Sam spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning gutters and replacing the rotten wood in the back steps. He was a breath away from pronouncing this as the worst place they had ever stayed when she called them back inside and ushered them to the table. After the most delicious non-cheeseburger meal Dean could remember eating in months, she disappeared into the kitchen only to return with a steaming pan in her hand and a sly grin on her wrinkled face.

"So Dean, Caleb tells me you like pie."

-0-0-

The next morning, Dean registered the brothers at their different schools. He had gone through the process so many times it had become routine and the lies about his dad not being able to come in himself due to an early work shift weren't even questioned. He hated having to check the box for the National Lunch Program - it made him feel like a charity case - but Dad had left them with limited funds and this guaranteed Sam a decent lunch every day.

Doreen had warned him the Impala would be well-admired in this neighborhood and the school parking lot was notorious for vanishing rims and even vanishing cars, so despite the easy 'cool' status pulling up in his dad's car would have brought him, he decided they were walking to school. He loved the classic beauty and wasn't going to put her at risk, especially not when John had hinted recently at giving her to him. Sam's school was only about six blocks from the house and Dean's only three blocks farther. He gave his little brother strict instructions to wait for him after classes and not to walk home alone.

The first week went better than most new places. Dean received challenging or derogatory looks from most of the male students but a decent portion of the female population was giving him appraising smiles or returning his with shy blushes and coy giggles. Oddly, his teachers didn't seem to be immediately singling him out as the bad kid not worth the effort like they usually did. In fact, whether he did his work or not, they were pretty decent to him as long as he kept his mouth shut in class. So the first week passed with no threats of detention and he managed to get to three o'clock every day without once having to prove himself with his fists. He picked up Sam at the middle school as promised and only half listened to the kid's complaints about the overcrowded classes and the underfunded extracurricular programs as they headed back towards Doreen's.

In the light of day, he could almost be made to think this neighborhood's bad rep was all hype. Sure there were shady groups of locals hanging out on corners and in the park, but they generally ignored the Winchesters. What Dean saw in the half hour walk to and from school was regular people, working class civilians going about their business. The young couple who ran the bodega. The man next door to Doreen who drove away every day at first light in his Public Works truck. The portly crosstalk lady outside Sam's school. It was almost convincing.

Almost, but not quite. At night, the constant wail of police sirens, shouting voices, and even the occasional gunfire in the distance said otherwise. As did the empty vials crunching under their feet on the sidewalk and the way people carrying groceries or pushing strollers would cross the street to steer clear of the loitering men with the matching 7-6-9 tattoos on their arms or necks.

"I mean, education funding should be distributed equally based on population, not on which areas bring in the most taxes. The School Board here is a disgrace. The Federal government needs to step it up to even things out a little more."

"Mm-hmm." Dean nodded absently, half-heartedly feigning interest in Sam's rant as they strolled home. His dad's leather jacket wasn't doing him any favors in the California heat and for a thirteen-year-old, Sam put way too much thought into things that weren't baseball, girls, or video games.

"I mean, not like socialism or anything, but every American has the right to a decent... Dean? Are you even listening?"

Dean's attention had been drawn to a commotion up ahead and his muscles tensed. He splayed a hand in front of Sam's chest, gently urging him back. "Stay here, dude."

"What... oh, I see."

Dean knew his brother was ignoring his request to stay put because he could hear the kid's footsteps behind him but he moved briskly forward anyway. Forty feet ahead, a girl about his age was yelling loudly in Spanish, slapping wildly at a burly man in front of her while fisting the t-shirt of a younger boy she was holding behind her, keeping herself firmly planted between them. Although the man wasn't hitting back, he looked like his patience was reaching his limit.

Sure enough, by the time Dean reached them, the man – the very large and muscular man, Dean noted with chagrin – had grabbed the girl's wrists and was shaking her roughly, snarling in Spanish into her face.

"We got a problem here?" Dean interrupted.

"Mind your own business, pendejo," came the growled reply.

Dean didn't back down but after getting a look at the big, angry man up close, decided not to outright challenge him and try to diffuse the situation using diversion instead. He turned to the girl.

"You're in my school, right?" he asked, carefully ignoring the man. She did look familiar so the question was genuine.

Mr. Intimidating had let go of her but he certainly didn't look pleased. "You mind?" he snarled. "We're having a conversation."

"No, the conversation's over," the girl spat, her stance all defiance and attitude.

Yah, that was totally hot.

"You're a senior," Dean continued in a friendly tone, trying to keep his natural instinct to use his flirty tone at bay.

The girl didn't pay him much attention and kept her angry glare and head-tilt directed at the guy who let out a stream of curse words and an angry huff before jabbing his finger at her.

"We'll take this up later, perra." He turned and walked away with a swagger that outdid Dean's by a mile.

Dean exhaled in relief but the girl's pissed off expression didn't relax until the guy was half a block away. She turned it on the kid behind her for a second before finally looking up at Dean. Then she smiled.

"I'm Dean," he said, smiling back, the flirty tone immediately making its appearance.

"I seen you in school," she said. "You're the new white boy."

He laughed. "I guess I am."

"I'm Camila."

"Camila." Dean repeated. The name sounded different with his drawl rather than her sharp Latino accent but he liked it.

"This is Mateo, my pain in the ass little brother," she continued, tapping the kid next to her on the back.

Dean grinned, giving Sam a shoulder nudge. "This is Sammy, _my_ pain in the ass little brother."

"It's Sam."

Dean ignored the familiar correction. "What was with that guy?" he asked, jerking his thumb at the retreating figure.

She rolled her eyes. "That's Juan. My cousin. He keeps gettin' in our faces tryin' to say Mateo needs to run wit' him and the niners but my little brother's too smart for gangs. He's not gonna do that. He's doin' good in school and he's gonna graduate." She tousled Mateo's hair fondly, getting the same exact exasperated look Dean got every time he did that to Sam. "Well, if he gets his math grade up, he will," she added in a mock-scolding tone.

"Sammy's a wiz at math." Dean was quick to seize both opportunities being presented, the way to get his foot in her door and a chance to brag about his little brother. "You know, he could always tutor Mateo."

Sam threw him an annoyed look at being pimped out and used as a flirting tool but didn't protest. Truth was, the kid made a pretty good wingman.

Camila looked almost shocked at the offer. "Really?" She glanced eagerly at Sam. "What grade you in?"

"Eight."

"Oy, me too," Mateo said. "Willowbrook, right?"

"Yeah."

"You could tutor him?" Camila interjected. "He's got a test Friday and he's gonna fail it. Maybe you could come over like, tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam agreed.

"We live in the highrise up on Bellvue. Apartment 313."

"Sammy doesn't go anywhere alone," Dean cut in, not wanting to miss his opening with the girl but also not about to let Sam head over to that part of town by himself. "That invite include me?"

Camila's eyes scanned him from head to toe and her smile widened. "S'pose you could come too."

"It's a date then."

"Five o'clock? I make wicked carne asada fries."

"Make that a dinner date."

"Listen, we gotta go," she said, still smiling at him. "See you tomorrow, Dean."

"See you tomorrow, Camila."

She and Mateo headed off in the opposite direction of Doreen's house. Dean watched them go for a minute feeling pretty pleased with himself before looking over to see Sam rolling his eyes at him.

"What?" he said with an innocent shrug.

Sam shook his head. "That was so lame." He hoisted his backpack higher and started walking.

Dean laughed and fell in beside him, putting an arm around his shoulder. "Watch and learn, my young padawan. It worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, thanks to me," Sam pointed out before finally gifting his big brother with a smile. "It's a date then," he mimicked, exaggerating Dean's deep voice.

"Shut up."

Sam laughed. "Make that a dinner date."

"Bitch."

"So freaking lame."

-0-0-

Camila and Mateo lived with their grandmother, who was a nurse at the local hospital and worked long hours, leaving her teenagers home alone much of the time. Dean was thankful to discover she was working tonight. Sam and Mateo went into the boy's bedroom to work on math after supper and Dean found himself spending the evening in the tiny living room with Camila. It turned out she worked part-time at her aunt's hair salon, sweeping the floors and manning the cash register and confided that she had dreams of going to hairdresser school when she graduated, if she could afford it. She was vocal with her opinions, which Dean had always respected in a girl, and definitely wasn't shy. They were making out heavily on the couch by seven o'clock.

He didn't really understand the appeal he had to chicks but he had turned weilding it into a fine art and knew he was damn good at it. It wasn't part of the skill set his dad had taught him but somehow it felt as much a survival skill to him as fighting and shooting. It wasn't anything Dean could explain or had even given much thought to but time spent with girls... it didn't really fill that hole he felt inside but it helped. It felt nice to have someone tell him how much they liked him, how brave he was, how special he was. And in those private moments with girls, he could say nice things back, make them feel beautiful and precious, let out that soft side of him that he couldn't show his dad for fear of appearing weak. Then when things went sour or he had to leave town, he would simply put his walls back in place and pretend it had been all about getting laid.

He must have lost track of time, probably distracted by the breast in his hand and his increasing eagerness to round second base and head straight to third, because there was a jingle of keys at the door and suddenly an elderly woman was standing in the living room, shaking her head as Camila hastily did up her blouse. Dean was on his feet in a flash, stammering a polite 'hello' and trying to catch his breath at the same time. The woman's hands went to her hips as she gave him a long, uncomfortable glare.

"You must be Dean."

"Yes ma'am."

"Hmph." She turned and walked towards the hallway, taking off her coat as she went. "Por el amor de Christo, Camila. You got maybe three white boys at your school and you gotta bring one up in here." She went into one of the rooms and closed the door behind her.

"Shit," Dean groaned. "I'd better get going."

"You don't have to leave," Camila insisted, tugging his arm to get him to sit back down.

Dean snorted with disbelief. "You crazy? Your grandmother's probably loading the shotgun right now."

Camila laughed. "You still breathin' ain't you? She liked you. You called her ma'am. Most guys she woulda chased outta here with a kitchen knife."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What the hell kind of guys do you date?" he asked, only partially teasing. He'd never been considered one of the good guys before, one of the boys parents _didn't_ mind their daughters with.

"Who says we're dating?" she teased back.

"Seriously, I should go though. I should get Sammy home."

"Come back tomorrow?"

"Your grandmother working?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, we'll be here. Hey Sammy!" he called, reaching for his jacket. "Math funtime's over, kiddo. We gotta split."

-0-0-

On the way home, Sam divulged what he had found out about Mateo's predicament. His cousin's gang, known as the seven-six-niners, had ties with Mexican Mafia and pretty much owned over twenty blocks of East Compton. Mateo had explained that if they knew you and started putting the pressure on to join, it quickly turned into an 'either you're with them or against them' situation. Mateo's cousins, uncles, even his estranged father were all involved with this gang.

Dean grunted his disapproval. "Just coz the rest of his family's in a gang doesn't mean he has to be. He can do what he wants. Just say no, right?"

He could sense as much as see the long, hard look Sam was giving him from the passenger seat.

"It's not that easy, Dean. When your family expects you to be like them." He slumped back in his seat and turned away to look out the side window, his arms folded across his chest. "I mean, Mateo should be left alone to finish school and get a normal job if he wants and not have to get caught up in the violence his family's tangled up in. They chose that life; he should get to choose his."

Dean was pretty sure his heart skipped a few beats and he felt a painful tightening in his chest at Sam's words. He could hear the underlying bitter tone in Sam's voice and it didn't take a genius to figure out the point his brother was trying to make. The kid was drawing parallels between Mateo's situation and his own. Dean's stomach churned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, only vaguely regretting that his hurt was coming out as anger.

Sam sighed. "Nothing."

"Nah, you were sayin' something."

"No I wasn't."

"Felt like it to me."

"Just drop it. I didn't mean anything."

Dean let it go on the surface but Sam's words were still gnawing at his insides. Did Sam really feel that way? Did his brother not want to be a hunter that badly? He thought Sam had gotten over his rebel thing after his two-week walkabout in Flagstaff last year when he had run away on Dean's watch, claiming he wanted nothing to do with hunting. Dean didn't want Sam to leave. It made him sick to his stomach to imagine his life without his brother. Sam was supposed to be the one who would have his back, just like he would always have Sam's. Who would he be without Sam... and why wasn't he enough for the kid?

-0-0-

Bobby called. Their dad had managed to get word to him that the Wendigo had gone to ground so he and Caleb were going to stay in the area and find whatever cave it had crawled into. That meant he could be gone another month, maybe even more. Dean refrained from complaining to Bobby because if he was being honest, this place wasn't so bad.

Three weeks passed. Sam continued tutoring Mateo and the two became good friends, some kind of nerd-bonding thing. Mateo may not seem like it on the surface with his use of local slang and baggy jeans, but after spending some time with him and hearing him talk about subjects he enjoyed, Dean realized he was a smart kid and with the exception of math, he was doing very well in school. He was kinda sweet too and Dean quickly grew fond of him. He walked Sam over to their apartment every two or three days, on the nights they didn't bother doing any of Dad's training regime, and hung out with Camila while the younger two studied or played video games in Mateo's room.

As for Camila, Dean found himself growing fond of her too. They actually did things other than make out, like watch TV and make supper together. She even insisted they do their homework on some days, imposing a 'hands-off' rule until they had both finished. Other days he would take her out in the Impala and catch a movie, hang out at the nearby Taco Pete's, or score some extra cash by buying liquor for her school friends with his fake ID's. Apparently at some point she decided she could be seen in school with a sophomore because she started hanging out with him between classes and at lunch and before Dean knew it, they were an item. Not that he was complaining.

They had been in Compton a month to the day. Dean was jogging the three blocks between his school and Sam's, having been held up at the Principal's office. Couldn't hold up his no-fighting-in-school streak forever, after all. He arrived to find Sam sitting outside with Mateo, who was sporting a nasty black eye.

"Can we walk Mateo home first?" Sam asked before Dean could even say hello.

"What happened?"

Sam answered for his friend. "His cousin."

"The mook who wants you to join his gang?"

Mateo nodded and Dean clenched his fists. "And that's his way of luring you in?"

"T'was my fault," Mateo said. "I disrespected him. Made him look bad."

"This ain't your fault, kid. Don't let me hear you say otherwise, got it?"

"It's okay," Mateo shrugged. "Just the way it is. I don't got much of a choice."

"Course you have a choice!" Dean flashed an unintentional glance at Sam, searching for a reaction to his statement. That comment wasn't intended for his brother. Of course Sam had a choice too but the way Dean saw it, he shouldn't need one. It shouldn't be a conscious decision you had to make. You don't have to 'choose' to have your family's back, you just do it.

"You got every right to look out for your mother and your sister and just go to school," he told Mateo.

"Yeah but Juan, he helps out with rent an' stuff."

"Doesn't mean he owns you." Dean took Mateo's backpack from him and started walking. "Why does he want you so bad anyway?"

"They need numbers. The crips west of 37th got more 'n us."

He frowned at the kid. "Us?"

Mateo didn't catch his mistake. "An' he wants me to run for him."

"What's that mean?"

"They get underage kids to sell the drugs so the ones over eighteen never get caught with any on them," Sam explained.

"Coz they'll be charged as minors," Dean deduced with a growl.

"Si. A couple of months in juvie and their record gets clean at eighteen."

"Fucking cowards."

They walked in silence for a couple of blocks while Dean thought things through. "Alright Matty," he said finally. "You just keep saying no and I'll walk you home every day, 'kay?"

"For another week or two," Sam scoffed. "What about after we leave, Dean? After Dad comes back?"

Dean sighed. "I dunno."

"What if Juan doesn't give up?" Sam pressed, clearly looking to his big brother for answers Dean just didn't have.

"I dunno, alright?"

"But Dean…"

"Sam, what do you expect me to do?" he cut in. He hated that both kids were looking to him like he was supposed to fix this but… what could he do? Wasn't like he could take on an entire street gang. They were human. Not his jurisdiction.

Sam's expression turned apologetic. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it was your fault or anything."

They didn't speak the rest of the way and the weight on Dean's shoulders grew with every step. He couldn't help but feel like he was letting Mateo down and worse, like he was letting his brother down.

-0-0-

The next few days were quiet. Dean walked Mateo home as promised, accompanied by Camila on the days she didn't have to work straight after school. On Saturday, he decided to splurge and took her to see the new Hellraiser movie, laughing at her frightened screams and playing up the 'nothing scares me' routine. It seemed to work because she finally went all the way with him, steaming up the back of the Impala in a quiet spot he had found just over the Los Angeles River. He dropped her back home well after midnight, not daring to walk her all the way upstairs for fear her grandmother was awake. Camila insisted the woman didn't hate him but considering what he and her granddaughter had just done, Dean preferred not to push his luck.

The call came less than a minute after he got back to Doreen's. He crept soundlessly into the room he shared with Sam and was just toeing off his shoes when he had to make a mad dash for the phone in the living room to silence it before it woke anyone up.

"Hello?" he whispered on a panted exhale.

It was Camila. "Dean? Dean he's doing it. Dios mio, he's so stupid," she blurted out through broken sobs.

"Calm down, calm down. Who's doin' what? What's goin' on?" He looked up as Sam shuffled out of the bedroom with his hair jutting up and out in every direction possible.

"Mi hermano," Camila explained, falling back into Spanish in her apparent distress. Dean had learned enough to know that meant brother. "Juan came by when… I was out with you.. and Mateo went with him."

"Went where?"

"Initiation!"

"Initiation into the gang?" Dean felt a knot forming in his stomach. "Shit. Can he get back out if he goes through with it?"

Camila broke out into full sobs. "No. Once you're in… Dean, I need your help. He's just a little kid. Please, Dean."

"Where did he go? What's the initiation?" He prayed silently it didn't involve killing someone or flying to Mexico to be a drug mule or… crap there were a hundred terrifying scenarios running through his mind.

"No lo sé, I dunno," she wailed. "No, no, wait! The Gas'n'Sip. He's gotta make them some money. I know Juan. He'll get him to rob the Gas'n'Sip. Up on 120th."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and let out a tense breath. "'Kay. Gas'n'Sip up on 120th. I'll go get him back."

"Thank-you. Thank-you."

"I'll bring him home soon, don't worry."

He hung up the phone and leaned down to re-tie his shoe.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, his voice hushed to not wake Doreen.

"Your buddy Mateo had a major brain fart and went off with his asshole cousin. Cam asked me to go get him."

Sam simply nodded, reaching for his jacket.

"No way," Dean barked, grabbing his brother's wrist. "You stay put."

"Dean, this could be dangerous. What if he's not alone?"

"Exactly why you're staying here." There was no way he was putting his own brother on this gang's radar. He snatched his keys back up from the table by the door.

"You might need back-up."

The fact that Sam was standing here offering warmed Dean's insides. His brother still had his back. Sam was still part of the family – still a hunter. The worried look on Sam's face momentarily quelled Dean's fears of late about Sam wanting out, fears he'd be left alone someday with just Dad to care what happened to him.

"I'll be fine. I'm just goin' to give Matty a ride home."

"Dean…"

"Hey." Dean cut Sam off, avoiding the urge to run his hand through his brother's hair and settling for giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You got that big history test tomorrow, remember? Get some sleep, kiddo. I'll be back before you know it."

And with that he left, shutting the door behind him before Sam could finish getting his shoes on and cutting off another protest in the process.

-0-0-

He steered the Impala into the parking lot of the Gas'n'Sip, driving slowly past the store before pulling into the closest spot at the side of the building. The place was quiet with only one empty car next to his, probably belonging to the store clerk. On his drive-by, Dean had spotted Mateo inside, staring blankly at a rack of potato chips and looking terrified. Must be trying to work up the nerve. He hadn't seen any other patrons which meant Juan and his meathead homies weren't here - thank God. He got out of the Impala and headed inside.

Mateo's head jerked around at the sound of the door chime and his terrified expression quickly morphed into one of relief when his eyes fell upon the older teen. Dean went straight up to him and ushered him to the far corner, out of earshot of the bored-looking cashier.

"What the Hell are you thinkin', Matty?"

Mateo hung his head. "He's just gonna keep pushing. I don't have a choice. I gotta live in this neighborhood."

"This isn't the answer."

"Then what is?"

"Talk to your grandmother. Maybe you can move out of Juan's gang's territory."

"We don't have money to go nowhere else. I was born here. My mother was born here. Mi abuela was born here."

Dean sighed, realizing how different he was that he had never stayed in one place more than a few months since he was five. Not everyone could uproot and move on without a second thought or a backward glance. It was probably a terrifying notion to someone who had never even been out of LA County.

"Look, I don't have the answers yet, kid. But I'll figure something out. I swear."

"Sam says you're leaving soon."

"I'm not gonna leave town 'til I got you and your family safe."

Mateo looked hopeful but not thoroughly convinced. "I don't know…"

"Listen, do you trust me?"

He got a solid nod in response.

"Then you gotta believe me when I say you have my word. You believe me?"

Another nod.

"Awesome. So can we get outta here?" He gave Mateo an encouraging smile. "Without sticking up the joint, that is."

Mateo gave him a sheepish grin and pulled an aging single-action revolver out of the front of his pants. "I was supposed to use this," he said.

Dean snatched it and immediately flicked the safety on while checking to see if it was loaded. Finding three bullets, he frowned down at Mateo. "You looking to shoot yourself in the nuts?" he scolded. "Never tuck it in your pants with the safety off. Have you ever even fired one of these things?" He removed the three bullets and briefly debated keeping the weapon but reluctantly handed everything back with a grimace.

"Once," Mateo answered. "Juan taught me last year but he didn't wanna waste bullets so he just let me shoot it one time. I asked Sam to teach me with his but he said I was better off not knowing."

Dean grunted his disapproval at his brother's naïveté. "Keep it unloaded 'til you know how to use it. And tuck it away again quick before the cashier sees us."

Mateo stuffed it in the pocket of his baggy jeans before they reached the end of the aisle and passed the clerk, who eyed them suspiciously before going back to reading the porn magazine spread out on the counter. They stepped out into the warm night air and headed towards the side where the Impala was parked.

Dean was worried about how he was going to keep his promise but also spared a thought to how thankful Camila was going to be when he brought Mateo home gang-free. He was imagining exactly how she was going to demonstrate that gratitude and he was wearing a smirk when he rounded the corner to find Juan right up in his face.

"What the fuck is this?" the man challenged, looking back and forth between Mateo and Dean.

"I'm taking Mateo home," Dean replied evenly.

"No you ain't, flaco hijo de puta. Kid's got work to do." Juan squared his shoulders and Dean could hear the guys' knuckles cracking.

He nudged Mateo in behind him. Unfortunately, Juan was standing between them and the Impala so driving away without a confrontation wasn't an option. The man was as tall and a lot heavier than Dean but the young hunter was confident enough in his fighting ability not to make a move for Mateo's gun.

"You stay away from him. He doesn't want to join your stupid gang."

Juan replied with an immediate swing at Dean's face.

Yah, probably should have left out the 'stupid'.

Dean ducked the punch and dealt one of his own, a quick jab to Juan's nose that earned itself a sharp cry and a stream of Spanish cursewords.

"Get in the car!" Dean barked at Mateo before sinking a follow-up fist in Juan's gut.

Looking beyond scared, Mateo scampered around them and jumped into the Impala's passenger side, allowing Dean to focus fully on Juan. The older man was tough, strong, and fast and landed a couple of good hits but Dean was better. Endless sparring sessions with his dad and a growing Sam had taught him to work the tells, see the signs and anticipate his opponent's next move. A shift in stance. A flex of a muscle. Where the perceived opening was. He also had excellent reflexes and quickly took advantage of every opportunity that was presented to him in a fight. It was a hard win but Juan finally hit the ground with Dean on top of him, raining blows down on his face so fast and furious his knuckles were bleeding. His anger at what this guy was doing to a nice family boiled over and he kept swinging, getting so lost in his fury that he barely heard Mateo's sharp calling of his name.

He drew back, breathing heavily, and surveyed the mess beneath him. Juan was groaning unintelligible pleas to stop through a swelling face so bloody it was barely recognizable. A flicker of doubt struck Dean – had he gone too far? – but then he thought of Mateo - a good kid, a kid the same age as Sammy, Sammy's _friend_ - and he quickly absolved himself. Violence was the only thing these gang clowns knew. It was the only way that had a chance of earning Dean some respect and maybe making his point. This was how disputes were settled in the streets, right?

Mateo called his name again, this time sounding even more frantic and Dean swung his head around to check on him. He was alarmed when he saw the kid's eyes were focused on something behind him and realized his mistake even before he heard the footsteps – lots of them and close. Instinctively, he tried to leap to his feet but didn't make it.

A pair of arms grabbed him from behind. He twisted and broke out of the hold easily but before he could even turn to face his new challenger – make that _challengers_ – a hard blow was dealt to his kidney. He fell forward but managed to roll, despite the acute pain tearing through him.

Crap, he was gonna be pissing blood for a week.

The thought was truncated when it registered there were at least four men coming at him, not including the prone Juan. He scrambled to get to his feet but they didn't waste any time diving in with fists and feet swinging. He blocked as best he could but knew it was a losing battle. If he could just get to the Impala's trunk…

Suddenly Mateo was screaming and yelling. Dean let his eyes flit sideways just long enough to see two more guys dragging the kid roughly out of the car.

"No," he choked, renewing his efforts to get clear of the punches and kicks coming at him long enough to get his feet beneath him. He shot a fist forward right into the closest guy's groin, not caring about whatever man-code disallowed the dirty move. When it was four against one, all bets were off.

The others faltered when the guy let out a high-pitched squeal and dropped to his knees and Dean immediately lunged upwards. Mateo was being punched repeatedly in the stomach over the hood of the Impala so without a second thought, Dean bowled straight into the two men hitting him. He managed to take both of them down, as well as Mateo, but they all ended up in a messy pile on the asphalt. He heard a clatter and saw Mateo's gun skitter away, spinning until it came to a stop under the car. He made a mental note that he had removed the bullets. Fucking stupid move….

He jerked his head to avoid a fist with three giant gold rings on it that surely would have left a lasting mark. It smashed into the hard ground and the guy it belonged to howled in pain. Dean rolled enough to get his legs clear and twisted, swinging them in an arc forceful enough to sweep the legs out from beneath the guy who still had a grip on Mateo. He polished the move off by planting a boot in the guy's face.

Mateo was free. The kid had been fighting with everything in him, bless his gentle soul, but this fight was hopeless. Dean was screwed and Mateo wouldn't get another chance like this.

"Run!" he commanded, springing up to his knees and throwing a wild, tired punch at the guy closest to Mateo. "Run now!"

Mateo hesitated, a thick stream of blood running down his nose.

"Go!" Dean shouted, his voice giving out when either a fist or a foot landed in his solar plexus. The air rushed out of him and pain shot through his already battered body. But in a half second that seemed suspended in time, he saw Mateo running. Fast as the wind and homefree, heading out towards the street. The one guy following had no chance of catching him.

He struggled to regain control of his muscles but a shiny white sneaker struck his face and he hit the asphalt once more. Flat on his back on the ground, blurry figures moving about above him with fists and feet pummeling him incessantly, delivering an onslaught of pain from every direction. He curled in on himself in a defensive position, knowing he was done and had no choice but to surrender his fate to the mercy of his attackers.

He had clung to the hope that they would see he was beaten and stop but they kept going. He no longer felt the individual blows as they continued to land on his head, his back, his stomach. He did feel at least three of his ribs break on three separate occasions but the rest just blended together into one hazy onslaught of pain. His mind was growing sluggish from repeated hits to the face and he was struggling for air. He could feel himself losing his grip on consciousness and slipping away but fought it with every scrap of willpower he could muster. This wasn't just a beating to teach him a lesson; they weren't going to stop until he was dead. When he gave in to that darkness threatening to swallow him, there would be no waking up.

These were his last moments and he wasn't with Sam. He wasn't with his family. In a wave of irrational despair he whispered his brother's name into the pool of blood under his cheek.

He heard laughing and the kicks seemed to stop… or perhaps he just wasn't feeling them anymore. Goading voices sounded above him but his brain was too hazy to make out specific words. His breath was ragged and every hard-earned intake of air stabbed at his chest. His face was cut and swollen and slick with warm blood and grit from the asphalt was grinding into the raw flesh of his cheek.

There was a voice in the back of his brain nagging at him that he should take this opportunity to try to talk, try to plead with his attackers for mercy, for his life, but all he could think of was Sam. Who was going to look out for the kid when Dad was away? Sam needed him – was the _only_ one who needed him. They needed each other. He was abandoning his brother, failing him, failing Dad. No, he couldn't die.

He didn't realize he had whispered Sam's name again until he choked around the word. There was another round of laughter above him and someone grabbed him by the front of his leather jacket, hoisting his top half roughly off the ground.

Dean tried his damndest to look the guy in the eye but his head kept rolling back. The hands eventually let go of his jacket and he slumped back to the ground.

"Do we kill him?"

That question came in loud and clear but his argument to spare his life came out as nothing more than a simple, weak grunt.

"Fucking yes. Look at Juan, esé."

"I get the car," another voice claimed. "This thing's fucking sweet! Put a hydraulic lift kit in an' she'll bounce like Anita's tits."

There was the sound of yelling somewhere in the distance but Dean barely heard it past the pounding of his heart in his ears. He saw the flash of a knife somewhere above him and closed his eyes, his body simply refusing to give him anything more to fight with.

"Dean! Dean! Leave him! Get away from him!"

The eye that wasn't completely swollen and matted with blood flew back open. "Sammy," he choked, suddenly terrified beyond reason. What was Sam doing here? How? Why? There was a kernel of relief at the familiar voice amidst his terror of being beaten and stabbed to death but it was outweighed by the horror of Sam potentially sharing his fate.

He struggled to sit up or even roll over to see what was going on but most of his body seemed to have switched off already. There was more yelling and moving about above him then a gunshot sounded, loud and definitive.

"Sammy?"

Oh God, had they shot his brother? The jolt that horrifying image gave him allowed his beaten muscles to roll his torso onto its side enough to see what was going on. Sam was still standing, thank God, just a few yards away and Dean let out a chortled sob at the relief. His brother had his hands stretched out before him and… was that a gun in his hands? It was, it was Mateo's gun. That blurry shape next to him looked like Mateo... it was. But the men… where were the men?

His brain slowly pieced the situation together. The men were somewhere behind him, out of sight. But what if they had guns? Surely they would have guns…

"Get your hands in the air!" Sam yelled, jerking the gun as if singling out someone in particular outside Dean's bleary field of vision. "Put your hands anywhere near your belt and I shoot! Any of you!"

There were too many. As thankful Dean was to be alive, there were six or seven grown men with attitudes and possibly guns itching to kill his little brother right now and he couldn't help but think the situation hadn't improved. Hell, it had worsened.

Then he heard sirens. In the distance at first but suddenly they were loud and disorienting and there were lights flashing in time with the thrum of his pounding head. Too many lights, too much noise, too much pain… then nothing.

-0-0-

The lights were still flashing when he came to, his head cradled in someone's lap. He opened his eyes to see it was Sam, leaning over him with tears running freely down his cheeks.

"Sam," he croaked.

"I'm here. You're gonna be fine, Dean. Just stay still."

His brief stint in dreamland didn't seem to have helped his pain-wracked body for he was still in agony, several different types and from several different sources but all of them hurt like Hell. At least he felt more lucid now than when his brother had first shown up - that minute or two in his memory was a confusing haze.

"How... how did you...?"

"I stole the neighbor's bicycle," Sam explained, wiping his tear-tracked cheek with the back of one hand while the other clung tightly to Dean's collar. "I rode here right after you left. I knew this was gonna be bad."

Poor kid looked terrified and distraught all at the same time and Dean guessed he must look as bad as he felt.

"I was almost here when I ran into Mateo. He said you were in trouble… he had a gun."

Dean tried to give his brother a scolding look but his facial muscles wouldn't cooperate.

"Shouldn't have…"

"Of course I should have," Sam scolded right back. "They were gonna kill you."

"You... you saved my butt."

"For once."

_No, not for once_, Dean disputed internally. He couldn't articulate his jumbled thoughts but he knew enough to know Sam saved him every day. At least, that's what it felt like. Sam was the one constant source of light in his life.

"That's why you have to stay," he whispered, flashes of Sam's many recent hints of leaving someday suddenly flooding back to him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Sam assured him, moving his free hand to wrap around his big brother's. "The guys ran away when the cop showed up. The cop called an ambulance. It'll be here any second. I'm not gonna leave you, Dean."

His fat lip and bloody mouth was making talking difficult. "Don't mean now…." he managed, absurdly determined to make his point. "The way you talk… you're gonna leave… someday…"

Dean had no idea why the thought of Sam leaving was hitting him so hard right now, especially when the kid had just proved he had Dean's back. Maybe that was exactly why.

Sam said nothing in a damning display of silence.

Dean closed his eyes and squeezed Sam's hand. "I need you, can't you see that?"

"You're gonna be okay."

"Don't leave." He was only vaguely aware of what he was saying at this point, vaguely aware he was being needy and desperate but couldn't seem to control his brain enough to change the subject. He just suddenly needed Sam to stick around more than anything.

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Those words brought him an eerie sense of calm and he took a few slow, even breaths, relaxing into his brother's hold. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell Dad, 'kay?" He groaned when a breathy chuckle sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through his body. "I'll catch shit for this one."

"Here's the ambulance," Sam announced, ignoring the attempted joke about Dad. "I can hear the sirens. You're gonna be okay, Dean. They're here."

Dean didn't hear any sirens. In fact, he could See Sam's lips moving above him but couldn't hear the kid's voice anymore. The flashing lights of the cop car started to fade and he felt Sam shaking him lightly, bending over him with a panicked expression. He could guess Sam was begging him to stay awake and wished he could comply but the ability to do so slipped away and his surroundings faded into nothingness once more.

-0-0-

The next time he woke up he felt different. The acute pain was gone but a dull ache remained and his brain was just as groggy and slow to process. It eventually figured out it was quiet, no more yelling and no more flashing lights, and he was lying on something soft.

A hospital. The white surroundings came into view and he realized he was in a hospital bed, in a small room identical to the countless others he had frequented in his short life. Lifting his head, he saw Sam curled up asleep across the bottom of his bed and... Dad? No, not Dad, that was Bobby, Bobby asleep in a chair by the window.

He tried to call his brother's name but a scratchy grunt was all that came out. It was enough, however, to cause Sam to spring upright and Bobby to jerk his head straight with some confused mumbling and a quick wipe of drool.

Sam was off the bed in a flash and they both moved around to stand at his side.

"Dean, you okay?"

"How you feelin', son?"

His futile attempt to answer was halted by Bobby, who reached for the cup of ice chips he had ready and waiting on the side table. Trying not to moan out loud with pleasurable relief, Dean sucked slowly on a couple before attempting to talk again.

"How long I been out?"

"'Bout a day and a half," Bobby answered. "You were in pretty bad shape. Four broken ribs, internal bleeding, ruptured spleen, pretty serious concussion, too many bruises to count. Doc had you in surgery most of the first night. You were just getting out when I got here yesterday mornin'."

Dean took it all in. Flashes of the beating he had taken came back to him and he wasn't surprised by the list of injuries.

"Dad?"

"Can't get a hold of him," said Sam, not hiding the disapproval in his voice.

Dean just nodded. "Matty?"

"Don't you worry 'bout Mateo and Camila," Bobby assured him. "They were here that first night with Sammy, their grandmother too. There was some concern Juan might come back lookin' fer some retribution, considerin' what a beatin' you put on him... Good job on that by the way." He paused to give Dean an impressed nod. "So they're hiding out at Doreen's for now."

"I made it worse," Dean breathed.

"They'll be fine, Dean," Sam said, pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the bed next to Dean's hand with the IV in it. "They refused to talk to the cops but Bobby convinced their grandmother to move to another area of town."

"Same town though," Dean pointed out, keeping his words to a minimum since it still hurt to talk.

"I got a plan to sort out Juan and his homies," Bobby informed him with a smirk. The old guy sounded so ridiculous saying 'homies' but it hurt too much to laugh so Dean held it back.

"What'll you do?" he asked.

"Well see, when people don't scare somebody, ya gotta find something that does. Luck has it, in my line of work, I have access to all sorts of things that can make a grown man weep like a baby. When your daddy gets back, I'll put a little show together for these seven-six-niners that'll have them shitting their baggy drawers."

"Like a ghost?" Why hadn't he thought of that? His heart sank. He hadn't been able to save his friends and had to be bailed out by the grown-ups. This was humiliating. It certainly wasn't going to impress Dad.

Sam snorted. "I say we feed them to that Wendigo Dad's hunting."

Bobby laughed. "As tempting as that sounds, I got a line on El Moruno and a binding spell that aughta do the trick just fine." He looked down and brushed a hand gently across Dean's forehead in a small but unusual display of affection. "You take it easy, kid. I'm too old to be gettin' scares like that, got it?" he said before taking a step back. "Doc told me to come get her when you woke up so I'll be back in a jiffy."

With that he left the room, leaving the brothers alone. They were quiet for a minute before Sam twisted around on the bed to face Dean. It was then Dean saw the kid's eyes were glistening, brimming with unshed tears.

"You really ok?" Sam asked quietly.

He managed a weak smile, instinctively trying to reassure his brother. "Besides feelin' like I got hit by a train? I'm fine."

Sam grinned. "Wait 'til you see your face dude. You look like you got hit by a train too."

The chuckle that ran through his chest hurt so it was short-lived. His mouth was still dry and he reached for the cup of ice chips again. He took his time sucking on the nuggets of bliss while Sam just sat quietly, his leg pressed up against Dean's. He spent the time putting together the fragmented pieces of the fight and Sam's rescue, remembering the ill-timed conversation he had initiated while waiting for the ambulance.

Finally he gave Sam's knee a gentle pat, feeling like there was something he needed to say. "Thanks Sammy. You shouldn't have come and I told you to stay put but... thanks. You saved my life, you know."

"Dean, you're my brother."

He just nodded and laid his head back, closing his eyes. That was a perfectly good explanation in their family, always had been... But would it stay that way?

A few minutes passed before he opened his eyes again.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You remember making a promise?"

"Dean..."

"I'm just asking. Do you remember what you promised?"

"That I wouldn't leave."

"I'm gonna hold you to that, you know."

"I'm thirteen. Where am I gonna go?"

"You were twelve last year when you ran away to Flagstaff."

"And I said I wouldn't run away again, didn't I?"

"Running away, walking away, same diff."

He was disheartened to see Sam hesitate. He knew he was out of line using the situation to make Sam promise but if he could only get the kid to see that he needed him. That he and Dad needed him. That a family should stick together - especially a hunting family. It tore at him that Sam appeared to have to think about it and was resistant to give Dean his word.

Sam finally nodded, his face solemn. "I won't leave you, Dean." He shrugged. "Hunters have to watch each other's backs. I've got yours."

He couldn't help but notice it looked like a little piece of Sam died when he called himself a hunter and knew then without a doubt that his days with his brother were numbered. But Sam was faking a smile and making a promise Dean wanted to believe so he forced a false smile of his own, shoving the knowledge of the inevitable somewhere deep inside where he could manage to ignore it.

"So are the nurses here hot or what?"

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed. "You need to look in a mirror and see what you look like. You might be able to get the old nurse that looks like Danny DeVito to give you another spongebath. Want me to call her in for you?"

"Bitch."

Sam reached for the nurse call button. "No seriously. Let me call her for you. She had way too mucb fun doin' your bath yesterday." He giggled and Dean's smile turned genuine at the beautiful sound.

At least he has his brother for now. That's all that mattered.

-0-0-

_**November 2014...**_

_San Fransisco, California_

Dean sat in the diner flipping through the pages of the newspaper and throwing frequent glances up at the door to the washrooms. Sam was taking a long frigging time in there. Knew he should've put his foot down and nixed the younger man's burrito order. The long car ride to the next hunt was going to be deadly.

Speaking of the next hunt, he still had to find one. He sighed and flipped to the next page and scanned it quickly, taking a sharp intake of breath at the photo he found. His eyes immediately fell to the short article next to it.

_At thirty-one years old, Mateo Ramirez has become one of the youngest mayors of Compton, winning yesterday's election by a significant margin. Mateo was born and raised in East Compton, a city he is popular for calling 'Ready and Willing' in terms of economic growth and development. _

_His interest in politics was first ignited when he caught a Republican seminar while attending UCLA that was hosted by then-governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. Ramirez started his career off with a bang, winning a seat on the Compton Council at just twenty-five years old and hasn't looked back since. _

_His mayoral platform rested heavily on promises to end street violence and encourage local, small-business entrepreneurs such as his older sister who owns a small hairdressing salon on El Seguno Blvd. When asked why he takes such a hard stance on gang violence, he told a story of his childhood, citing he had to move to escape threats from a local gang. He claims he had thought there was no way out but a fellow teenager and friend had risked his own life to take a stand against the gang in question and in doing so, had opened Mateo's eyes to what needed done. Ramirez says he will be forever grateful to this friend and is determined to keep fighting until gangs no longer have the power to intimidate and threaten Compton's youth._

_"I owe my life to a brave kid who stood up for me," he was quoted as saying. "So now it's my turn to stand my ground and fight back in the best way I know how until we put an end to all this senseless violence."_

Dean stared at the newspaper for a long few seconds before tearing the article out carefully and folding it into his pocket. He got up and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Come on, Sammy. We got a job to do."

-0-0-

The end. Please review :)


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